


Reflections of Reality

by Meltha



Category: Labyrinth (1986)
Genre: F/M, Post Movie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-09
Updated: 2011-11-09
Packaged: 2017-10-25 21:02:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/274757
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Meltha/pseuds/Meltha
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On the anniversary of her journey into the Labyrinth, Sarah confronts unanswered questions.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Reflections of Reality

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: All characters are owned by the Jim Henson Company. Absolutely no copyright infringement intended, and I am making zero money off this.
> 
> Written for fandom_charity, for a request made by megmurry in exchange for aid during Hurricane Katrina for a Sarah character study fic set after the events of the Labyrinth, Jareth/Sarah ship optional.

“You have no power over me.”

She had spoken those words exactly one year ago. In a way it seemed that the strange adventure with the Goblin King had happened in another lifetime. The world had continued revolving for Sarah as the seasons passed. She laughed with her friends and played with Toby, who almost seemed to be growing visibly every day. He didn’t appear to remember anything about the Labyrinth, but there were moments when she could swear there was a mischievous glint in his eyes that said he knew something but wouldn’t tell. Sarah still loved her plays and fantasies, though she was connected enough to the mundane reality of the world around her not to become too lost in her own dreams. Eventually, there were days when she didn’t think about the Underground.

Still, the memories could come crashing back to her through little things. A clock would begin to chime and she would unconsciously hold her breath, waiting for it to strike thirteen. Children blowing soap bubbles in the park would bring to mind the pearlescent glow of Jareth’s ballroom. At times she even fancied she saw the flutter of feathery, white wings from the corner of her eye, but she always turned to find nothing at all.

During the day, she could convince herself, sometimes, that it had all been nothing but a dream. The night was something else entirely. Her dreams were haunted with visions of fairies and goblins, enchanted forests and deep mazes of lush green. But more vivid even than that, the mismatched eyes of the Goblin King gazed at her from the cascading silks and satins of his ballroom, their expression one of disdainful disappointment, but lurking in their shadows, the slightest touch of pain and confusion.

As the anniversary of Sarah’s victory approached, the dreams had become clearer, more frequent. Tonight as she lay in bed, Merlin was nestled close to her side, the softness of his fur warm beneath her hands, and she was glad of his company. Her mind drifted back over the changes that had occurred in that brief span of time. Her life was balanced on a precarious point of infinite possibilities. College lay ahead of her in all its wonderful chaos and excitement, and beyond that a life brimming with possibilities ripe for the picking.

But this night, she was drawn back to the dream world that she still wasn’t sure she hadn’t created on her own. She knew what Jareth would say: he had created the labyrinth for her, showing her the dreams she kept locked inside. But had she created Jareth as well, or was he somewhere now, laughing in his aristocratic chuckle at her confusion, his gloved hands sending crystals floating on the breeze?

She snuggled a little closer to Merlin, petting him almost absently. Her eyes began to grow heavy, and she finally lapsed into slumber, knowing what her dreams would be.

“Hello, Sarah,” said the familiar voice as the landscape dissolved into the well-remembered hill above the labyrinth. “I expected you much earlier than this. I almost believed you wouldn’t come.”

“This is only a dream,” she said aloud, but more to herself than to him.

“Life is but a dream,” Jareth retorted with an airy wave of his hand. Sarah’s eyes flicked over his clothes: midnight blue spangled with silver, fabulously embroidered and glittering with the soft glow of magic. Yet, somehow, on him they looked vaguely somber. “And how is your dream, Sarah?”

“I don’t understand any of this,” she said, turning away from him to watch dawn break over the ancient walls and gardens of the maze below.

“Of course you do,” he whispered in her ear, suddenly very close to her. “Would you be here if you didn’t want to be?”

“Not all dreams are things you want,” she said, backing away. “Some are nightmares.”

He sniffed, lifting his nose in the air. “Am I nightmare to you?”

“Maybe,” she answered honestly.

He seemed amused by her answer, smiling roguishly, but said nothing. The silence was beginning to make Sarah feel intensely uncomfortable.

“Why are you here?” she blurted finally.

“I believe the true question is why are you here,” he said, staring at her intently.

“Geez, can’t you ever give anyone a straight answer!” she yelled in a fit of temper.

“Why should I when it is so much more fun not to,” he replied as he sat down on a boulder that appeared from nowhere. “But, just for a change of pace, I shall answer your question. I am here because you summoned me.”

“I know I didn’t say anything starting with ‘I wish,’” she said defensively. “Believe me, I’ve broken that habit.”

“You don’t need to say it. Stop being so utterly literal; it’s tiresome. All that is required is the will behind the wish,” he said evenly, “and you most definitely had that will or else I should be off doing something far more interesting.”

“So all I have to do is want you to be here and you have to show up? What kind of king are you anyway,” Sarah, trying to look condescending.

“I believe you already know the answer to that, so I shan’t bother to waste my breath on it,” he said, picking idly at some stray moss on the boulder on which he sat. “Why not ask something more interesting?”

“Like what?” she said, getting really aggravated now.

“Oh, come, come, come!” he cried, springing to his feet again. “If I’m your dream, you must know the question!”

“But then if you aren’t real, I should know the answer, too,” she said, piecing things together.

“Then perhaps I’m not a dream at all then, am I?” he said, suddenly serious again, and a flame seemed to dance in his eyes. “Whatever the case might be, ask what is on your mind. I may even answer.”

She looked at him, standing before her in his pomp and splendor, and for the first time she realized that she was dressed in the gown from her fantasy. She tipped her head, considering for a moment, then decided to risk asking this Cheshire Cat of a man what had been rippling through her brain for so long.

“If I’d said yes to you, what would have happened?” she asked in a rush.

He tipped his head back in a hearty laugh, and then regarded her coolly.

“Oh, my dear Sarah,” he said coming closer, and the enchantment she had felt in his dream crystal pulled at her even more strongly than it had a year ago as he slipped one hand around her waist and the other reached for her own. “I believe you know the answer to that as well.”

With a start, Sarah awoke to find Merlin licking her face, and she was more than a little disappointed. Glancing at her bedside clock, she saw that it was exactly midnight. Downstairs the clock began to chime the hour, and in that moment, in a wild rush between the dream she had left and the reality she had returned to, her heart formed a wish.

And the clock struck thirteen.


End file.
